


Empty gold

by metalmeisje



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: M/M, Soulmates AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmeisje/pseuds/metalmeisje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a stranger here, in so many ways, and it felt like they were going to see right through him the moment he dragged his eyes away from the people surrounding him to look, really look, at this new world that he had been granted a visit to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sirengenesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirengenesis/gifts).



> For Siren, an amazing enabler.
> 
> This is the product of another AU we came up with and it entirely self-indulgent, following the popular but amazing trope of 'OTP as soulmates, but only one half remembers.' Xephos dies and Ridge turns back time to fix them, but it's kind of hard to convince someone you were lovers in another life when your other half is very stubbornly denying that. And has other priorities. Based very heavily on RP and the consequent lore we came up with, hopefully it makes sense. Sort of. Expect more in this.
> 
> Lyrics are from Halsey's Slow.

_I had to pretend cause I'm only in this city for a minute_  
_and I know you've been trying to get in it and I'm with it but  
_ _you looking like you fell in love tonight_

_~_

_Are you trying to rewrite history or are you just making a carbon copy of a story you already know so well? Technically, you’re the only one that knows the words, knows the way the syllables links together to form words so unfamiliar to me. I want no part in the smudged ink on your crumbling paper, we’re different books and this story isn’t yours so why do you keep insisting it is?_

_Your name tastes like an unknown language on my tongue but I can’t help saying it again and again and again, rolling it around and screaming at the way my tongue touches the back of my teeth when I say once more there’s no such thing as destiny. You’re trying your best to shatter the distance between us with the sound of breaking glass drowning out everything else - but the only thing breaking here is me, it’s always been me so why are you bending over backwards to try and convince me otherwise?_

_Hasn’t anyone ever told you that there’s no glue in the world strong enough to mend shards of broken glass? You’re always going to see the cracks._

_You run through my head like a broken record and the familiarity of it is like a fairy tale, repeated endlessly until there’s nothing but empty words devoid of any meaning. And this, my **friend** , isn’t a fairy tale. If you are the prince looking for a frog to kiss, then you’re looking in all the wrong places. I’m more like the thorns on the rose bushes that keep you from seeing reality for what it is. You may think I’m beautiful but I’m just tearing into you, spilling glittering blood over floors that my feet were never supposed to touch; yet you seem so happy to fling yourself into me until we’re both bruised and broken and so utterly fucking blind._

He’d always dreamed of going to another world. Ever since he’d barely reached his father’s hips, nowhere near the lanky figure he would someday grow up to be, Xephos had looked up at the sky and seen the airships zoom over their heads in endless succession, and it had made something in him stir. They were like an unspoken promise and he had not yet been able to see the smoke that trailed behind them, the way the metal plates were covered in dents and holes left by an enemy’s bullets. The blissful ignorance of not yet being old enough to realize that fighter aircrafts were more _fight_ than _air,_ and always would be.

When he looked up, all he could see was an unfulfilled dream flanked by metal wings and he thought, _that is where I want to be some day_. Wherever they came from, because they had to come from _somewhere,_ right? He’d heard all the stories of different planets, worlds unimaginably different from his own home, and he wanted to see them all.

And even on those silent moments when things had already been on their slip slide way to hell, he’d lain on the roof of the highest building with Will by his side and had refused to stop dreaming. There had been cold concrete underneath them, holding them up high above the rest of the world in silent resignation, and they lay hand in hand with their fingers entwined as Xephos traced the night sky silently and brushed his fingers over constellations like he was running them through water. And every time, they had felt close enough to touch. He could cup the moon in his hands and pretend that he could give her to Will, watch the galaxies pass in emerald eyes and dream of how one day, some day, they would see the stars up close the way they’d always dreamed of.

(Somewhere in between the broken kisses that were more teeth than tenderness in the end, Xephos realized that maybe they had been staring at a different sky all this time. He could only see the endlessness that spread out above their heads where Will had seen the jagged edges of them, two constellations linked together by the same red star and burning up too fast, collapsing in on themselves like the inevitability they were.)

In the end he’d managed it, at least. Under false pretences and with the blood barely dried on the soles of his boots, Xephos had touched down somewhere else entirely. And it had been both exactly like he had imagined and nothing like it at all.

Voxel was… Voxel _was._ It was brighter than he had probably ever seen Ta’hal, with towers that scraped the heavens above like his fingers once had, and there was so much to see that he barely had time to keep up with it all. The days were infinitely longer and the nights were strangely warm, the darkness familiar but only in the way a vague acquaintance would be. It made him almost miss the long, icy nights of Ta’hal, when it had been so much easier to slip away into the shadows when the truth was always at his heels, a heartbeat away from swallowing him. There was no real hiding in the brightness of Voxel’s capital and it terrified him.

He was a stranger here, in so many ways, and it felt like they were going to see _right through him_ the moment he dragged his eyes away from the people surrounding him to look, _really_ look, at this new world that he had been granted a visit to. For some godawful unknown reason, he had finally left the surface of the planet he knew so well and touched down somewhere else completely -

 

(“ _Sarlah etek dvin-tor_.” An introduction.

“ _Vu dvin dor… A-atwel_?” An acknowledgement.

“ _Etwel_. Almost, Ridge.” A correction.

 “It seems wrong. It should be _le nathlam hí_.” Another correction.

“ _Le nath-_ What does that mean?” A hesitation?

“I’ll tell you in another lesson, br- Xeph. One thing at a time.”

 ~~A promise~~.)

 

and if he was perfectly honest with himself, Xephos still had no fucking idea what he was doing here. He barely even knew what they _expected_ of him. Eli’d been the one much better versed in politics, in the dull, dry exchange between leaders, in the rules of conversation that an _emissary_ surely needed. He could easily picture his friend here instead of himself, cool and collected with their quiet voice explaining everything they had done so far, the steps necessary to ensure their victory and carefully untangling all parts of a military strategy that Xephos felt he barely grasped. But somehow, it had been him.

He would have done a lot to get a moment of peace, but apparently being a dignitary from a foreign planet (a _~~traitor~~_ ) meant that he was only granted a handful of minutes every day that were truly his own, free from conversations about strategies and carefully planned-out meetings in which he felt so out of his depth that he had no idea how everyone else managed it with so much apparent ease.

It felt like he hadn’t slept in days and he probably hadn’t, the busy pre-planned schedule and the light of the sun keeping him awake and feeling faintly out of breath all the time. This was just one more point on the agenda, another official event in which his presence was somehow required. And although the reason for it filled his heart with a joy that he barely dared to acknowledged, the practicalities of it all had made him want to hide in Reilyn’s study surrounded by the safety of research notes instead of other officials looking him up and down and expecting something unknown.

Yet here he was. Xephos brushed off the lapels of the coat that he had been ‘encouraged’ to wear, the maroon fabric much too stiff and restricting for his liking. He may have died a small death or two when he had managed to find his way to the fitting room after only getting lost twice, stumbling inside a little out of breath and immediately regretting his decision when the tailor had cast a very old, _very_ sceptical glance his way.

“The emissary. _Finally._ Coat off and stand over here, if you please.”

He’d stood as stiff as a board when the tailor walked in circles around him, pressing a ruler to his arms and down the nervous line of his chest and tugging impatiently at the hem of his shirt because _surely_ Xephos didn’t expect him to do his job properly like this, now hurry up and get out of that ratty old thing, boy.

Nothing had been said about the lines of his past littered down his arms but Xephos had _known_ the man had a thought or two to spare. And maybe the stiff silence had made it even worse. At least Ridge hadn’t been there to witness it, which was a small blessing, he supposed.

Unable to stop frowning, Xephos straightened his jacket for the tenth time in about as many minutes, feeling oddly unlike himself. He knew he could pretend to be part of this crowd surprisingly easily, his coat an exact copy of the clothing the Voxelites so loved to wear down to the smallest detail, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that it was just another layer that he’d wrapped around himself in an attempt to hide in plain sight. A badly executed carbon copy, nothing more.

Oh well, he was going to have to bite his tongue and get through at least an hour of this, and then he might be able to slip away. Maybe see if he could manage to reach the stables without anyone catching him because he’d much rather spend his time there, surrounded by the quiet acceptance of eyes so much older than himself, than in a ballroom filled with people and expectations.

He still wasn’t over how stupidly _huge_ this place was _._ Grandiose and perfectly circular, with ceilings so much higher than he was used to, the windows reaching all the way up so every last ounce of sunlight could be caught and scattered across the floor in multi-coloured glass fractals to set the room alight in soft, warm hues. It was awe-inspiring, so much more luxurious and exaggerated than he was used to, and Xephos found himself standing to the side a little; with his glass in his hand and his back to the wall, he quietly watched everyone move around him, feeling oddly like the centre of an entirely new universe that he could _almost_ touch if only he could manage to get his arms to stop feeling like dead weight.

And if it meant that no one could lunge at him from where he couldn’t see it coming, his back as guarded as the rest of him, then surely that was only wise. Old habits die hard and gods, he missed his gun on his hip because he felt strangely naked without it. This wasn’t Ta’hal and there was no one waiting for him to drop his guard ~~probably~~ , but he still felt strangely helpless with an armour made only from soft fabric and the calm but _wrong_ hue of his eyes quietly scanning the room. One small, cracked bit of lapis in a sea of gold and oh, stars above he was going to-

“How are you doing, Xephos?”

He was proud to say that he didn’t bristle when Ridge was suddenly standing in front of him, hands linked behind his back and looking every bit the prince that he was supposed to be. Xephos managed a wary smile and held up his glass in greeting, looking Ridge up and down slowly as he tried to pretend that he wasn’t completely out of place here. Even though that was difficult; compared to the man in front of him, dressed to the nines with every bit of fabric in place, buttons and eyes shining and his hair kept as carefully as his polite smile, Xephos felt every bit the intruder _he_ was.

But damnit, he was going to try. It’s what they wanted him to do, after all. Might as well give them a show.

“I’m… I’m alright, thank you,” he answered politely. “I hadn’t exactly expected the.. scale of this party to be quite so big, but.. It’s nice.”

Because obviously ‘nice’ is the adjective to use when you were surrounded by what was probably every last bit of royalty in the near vicinity of the capital. And when you were talking to a prince.

Fuckin’ _hell._

Ridge’s smile was a saturated sunrise even amongst all the other shades of gold, but achingly different from the night skies that Xephos longed for. He shook his head as he downed the rest of his drink in one go and carefully placed it on one of the tables near them. That probably wasn’t proper etiquette either, but he figured he could get away with it. Not like anyone other than Ridge was watching him right now, anyway.

“So..” Ridge started, carefully, and it made Xephos bristle when he looked up, the silent hesitation setting him on edge right away.

“Please don’t let me keep you from your company, Ridge. I’m sure you have a lot of important things to do, and.. people to talk to.”

_Surely, you have more important things to do than try and have a polite conversation with me._

It was _beyond_ awkward really, and Xephos tried with everything he had not to shove his hands in his pockets and retreat to an even more distant corner of the room, desperate to get away when he had no idea what he was doing here. There was not one truly familiar face to settle his nerves and _fuck,_ for all that he hated him now for leaving him alone to deal with the mess that was their lives, Xephos missed Will furiously for a second or two.

When he looked up he was greeted not by emerald but by gold, glowing softly even in the bright lights of the room, and a hand extended almost hesitantly.

“I.. Am pretty sure you introduced yourself to me weeks ago, Ridge,” Xephos joked, and stars above he wanted to wince at how strained his voice sounded, insecurity latching onto his words and making him look even weaker than he already was. He knew that they had discussed it only hours before but the panic that had made his heart stutter then returned again in full force regardless. He hadn’t been lying about knowing how to dance, but it would be nothing compared to the way Voxelites were taught, all swirling coats and movements as fluid as water. An _adagio_ that his two left feet were never going to be able to mimic.

He was going to look absolutely ridiculous, he decided once more. Nervously, Xephos tugged on the sleeve of his brand-new jacket, silently hoping that maybe if he refused to acknowledge the invitation Ridge would find someone else to dance with. Ridge, all confusion for a moment, looked to his hand and then back up to Xephos, realization flickering in his eyes before the distant smile slid back into place like Xephos had seen it happen tens of times already. He’d had a lot of practice with that, apparently.

“Actually, this is usually the way you would ask someone to dance with you,” Ridge replied smoothly. “It’s only customary, after all.”

“Please, I’m… I told you I’m not sure it’s a great idea,” Xephos said, carefully not looking at the hand still extended to him for so long that it was quickly becoming awkward. “I’m… I don’t dance. Well. I told you, it’s going to be-”

“I insist, Xephos. Just one dance, it’s tradition.”

For all Xephos knew, Ridge was just talking out of his ass right now. It wouldn’t surprise him, after all the efforts the prince had made to try and convince them that their time was better spent together. And in all honesty he’d thought that Ridge had given up on that, keeping his distance… Some dumb fairy tale that implied that his presence here was anything more than a job that needed to be done.

But even someone as desperate to win as Xephos knew when to concede to a battle long lost.

“Fine,” Xephos said.  “One dance. Because it’s _customary._ ”

He spent the seconds it took walking to the dancefloor, his hand securely in Ridge’s, desperately wishing that he could find a way out of this – and then, when he realized that slipping away had never been an option in the first place, frantically trying to recall how exactly a waltz went even though he could never have forgotten. The steps were ingrained in his memory like they were for all of them back home, and he couldn’t help but already count in his head when he heard the music somewhere move from a simple upbeat melody into a slow, smooth waltz. _A waltz, right. I can do that one._ _One, two, three. It’s not that hard and once this is over I am going to hightail out of here and bother the first waiter I can find for a drink. Or ten._

As much as he felt like he was being watched by everyone around them, scrutinized and judged by eyes that knew so much more than he could ever hope, when they reached the dance floor no one batted an eye. Not even Gale seemed too bothered by his son’s chosen dance partner, a quietly looming presence that kept blessedly quiet even though Xephos was convinced he was keeping an eye on them both without them realizing it. And fuck, he was grateful for the absence of eyes prickling the back of his neck; he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to do this, to _dance,_ when the entire royalty department of Voxel was going to analyse his every step.

For all of his nerves Ridge was cool and composed, turning on his heels with a flourish of his coat as he faced his company for the duration of the next song.

“I hope you don’t expect flair, Ridge. Because I’ll tell you right now-“

“Relax, Xephos. It’s just a dance, not an exam. You’ll be fine.”

 _Fine._ Xephos rolled his eyes, straightening a bit when he felt a polite hand on the small of his back; if he was going to go down like this, with a stranger dragging him around an unfamiliar dance floor, then he was at least going to go down with every bit of pride he could manage. At least that would make him fit in with the rest of the crowd, he supposed. A rod for a spine and a coat meticulously crafted in just a few hours, clad like royalty even though he was just a burnt-out star surrounded by suns.

“You alright?” Ridge asked as he grabbed Xephos’ right hand, and Xephos nodded as he quickly tried to remember where exactly on your partner’s arm your other hand should go. Shoulder? No, upper arm. This was going to be _fine._

“Let’s just get this over with, Ridge.”

And then, they danced.

Technically, Ridge danced when Xephos merely followed his lead, feet stepping in and out as Ridge led him around effortlessly. Xephos kept an eye on his neatly polished shoes, trying to match Ridge’s graceful movements as he tried not to lose track of the pattern of their swaying. It was both easier and harder than he remembered; in the classes they had taken back home they had all stumbled along, giggling when they stepped on one another’s feet again and earning themselves another reprimand. But that had been easy, and in the end they had all gotten the hang of it.

This?

This felt like something huge depended on it, and Xephos couldn’t escape the feeling that a misstep here would result in a lot more than a teacher scolding them and chasing them out of the building until their next lesson, a week later. And if his eyes were cast down and guarded then he would not unwittingly extend an invitation like he had this afternoon, wouldn’t invite lips to press against his in an unguarded moment of bliss that he should not have allowed himself.

The music was nice though, smooth and light and not at all difficult to keep track of, and Xephos ignored the other people that rushed by in a blur of colours as Ridge led him across the dance floor if he’d done something quite similar a hundred times before. He probably had, at that.

About halfway through the song, Ridge paused and tilted his head, and Xephos felt his stomach drop. _Oh, shit. I didn’t know it was that bad._

“Relax, br- Xephos. You look like you’re about to be put in front of a firing squad, not enjoying a dance.”

“I’m not enjoying this,” Xephos bit back, staring intently at the floor. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to pause halfway through a waltz though, so please-“

“Xephos.”

Gently, Ridge tapped Xephos’ chin to urge him to look up.

(It confused him to the point of almost-panic, the way Ridge never shied away from touching him. The way he had no regards for the shadows in bright cyan eyes or the jagged edges that cut through any attempt at softness he was ever graced with. Will had understood that, had known when to take a step back from the flame where Ridge just shrugged it off and stepped closer, crushing the distance with such a disregard for anything but _them_ that Xephos wondered if the prince was secretly a masochist.)

(You want the happily ever after of sickeningly sweet flowers but I am just _thorns-_ )

Xephos narrowed his eyes and stood a little straighter still, hesitant to focus on anything other than his own feet, but when he finally met Ridge’s eyes they were soft and amused. And he didn’t want the kindness to put him at ease but it did so anyway, breaking through maroon armour with the same simple grace that he displayed when his shoed slid over the polished floor. And he could picture the warmth spilling from Ridge’s fingers that were splayed against his back, an almost-visible light sinking into the coldness of Xephos’ bones until something broke and made way to let hesitant gold seep into the empty space that he was trying to cling to.

His fingers slowly unfolded from the chokehold they had on Ridge’s coat, tension easing up until his hand rested lightly on the prince’s arm.

“Please. It’s just a dance, you’re going to be-“

“Fine. I know.”

He just needed to breathe. And if he was going to save his own honour by looking at this stranger’s face instead of at his clumsy feet, then he was damn well going to do it. Ridge’s hand squeezed his, a heartbeat of reassurance before they began again. Their feet followed the sweeping melody of the violins that played the soundtrack of their expected dance and for as much as it was a ritual that Xephos knew was required, he remembered with a shock how it felt like when he really _got_ it.

Raising on his tiptoes on the first beat, lightly stepping down and resting on the balls of his feet on the third.

A good dance, his teacher had told them, was supposed to feel like you were only barely touching clouds, never coming down to touch the ground completely. It felt a little like ice skating, or like swimming underwater when the rest of the world was muffled and muted and blessedly distant.

A little like he felt now.

As they danced, Xephos studied Ridge’s face and wondered why the hell this man kept chasing him. Even under the guise of politics and exploring new worlds, it seemed so silly for a prince from such a vibrant world to chase after the darkness that Xephos felt he was, a foot soldier with two left feet who had somehow found himself an eternity away from home. Ridge could pretend until he was blue in the face and ramble about politics and emissaries, and show him a world even brighter than the ones Xephos had once dreamed of on a rooftop a world away, but there would forever be something hidden underneath the business-like excuses that left Xephos’ stomach in knots without understanding why.

“You see? It’s not that hard when you _relax_ ,” Ridge said as he smoothly guided Xephos around another couple with an effortless whisk, his bright eyes glowing as he didn’t even pause to catch his breath, and Xephos found himself unable to ignore the urge to laugh. And he let it happen the deceptively light sound spilling from his lips before he could help himself, and something in him unfolded as he squeezed Ridge’s shoulder and effortlessly rose and fell in time with Ridge’s intricate steps.

“You think you know it all, don’t you?”

“Hardly, Xephos.”

There was something left unspoken there and Xephos searched Ridge’s face for it, for some kind of truth hidden underneath the layers of polite conversation, but he came back empty-handed. Like every other time before. Whatever it was that Ridge was hiding, it showed only in the way his eyes crinkled in amusement when they talked, the way his hand seemed to find the perfect place on Xephos’ back to rest there as if he knew him.

Maybe it was just etiquette.

The music swelled one last time, a crescendo that made Xephos’ heart stutter as Ridge swooped him around before taking the required step back, a small bow signalling the end of their dance. Xephos returned it a few beats too late, a little out of breath-

but he realized he was still smiling, the beginnings of an unfamiliar ache in his cheeks that he realized with a start was due to of a lack of practice.

They barely spoke the rest of the night, the both of them too busy talking to officials and Xephos being whisked away every time he tried to make a run for it by someone or other who wanted to congratulate him with the way things were finally looking up for Ta’hal. As if that had anything to do with his own efforts – but he politely accepted the felicitations anyway, linking his hands behind his back like he had seen Ridge do and managing to fumble his way through conversations without making too big of a fool of himself.

If Ta’hal was going to get out of this without the much damage that Xephos would give his live for to prevent, then maybe this was all going to be worth it. The discomfort and the stumbling feet and the clothes that seemed too delicate for a soldier like himself, they were small price to pay if the people he’d sworn to protect were going to be safe in the end.

He stumbled into his bed much later than he had promised himself, the brand new coat carefully draped over a chair and like a ghost in the corner of the room. With his arms behind his head and still in his clothes save for his jacket and boots, Xephos stared at the ceiling and tried to make peace with the fact that he had surprisingly enjoyed himself, in the end. Even under the gently scrutinizing gaze of Gale and Reilyn he had managed to navigate all the storms that unfamiliar company had flung at him, making do with a mixture of hand gestures and a tongue that wasn’t his own.

Xephos fell asleep with the taste of champagne on his lips and a warmth in his stomach that he couldn’t quite place, but surely it wasn’t the echo of a stranger’s touch on the small of his back that had kept him steady when he’d been sure he was going to drown.

(But his night was for once free of nightmares, the infinitely welcome nothingness of exhaustion-fuelled sleep, or so Xephos assumed. If anything had been dreamt, he did not ~~choose to~~ remember it the next morning.)

(Dreams were not a privilege the hopeless could allow themselves, after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> Sarlah etek dvin-tor - We come to serve.  
> Vu dvin dor etwel - Your service honours us.  
> Le nathlam hí - You are welcome here.


End file.
